


don't want this to sound like (we're about to depart)

by eulyhne_syios



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: And all the sadness and contemplation that follows after, But Xuxi is there and makes some of it better, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Leaving Nct Dream, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT)-centric, Memories, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Some Humor, That's really all, random bursts of crack bc xuxi, this is the closest to a serious lumark i'll ever get haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eulyhne_syios/pseuds/eulyhne_syios
Summary: He's the last person Mark expects to call. But maybe sometimes you find home where you least expect it.





	don't want this to sound like (we're about to depart)

He's the last person to leave when they're done. Before Mark steps out, he takes one more look back. The room looks the way it always did, something timeless about it, constant. Maybe it was the windows in the far wall, sometimes blurred sometimes tinted in a way so you couldn't tell if it was night or day. Maybe it was something invisible.

 

He often never thought about these things though, while they were recording. Time slipped by him, he never bothered wondering what time it was when he came, when it was he left. It was like the thin barrier between waking and dreaming. For an infinitely small moment, he notices it there, as his world slowly brightened —the early sunlight catching the edges of his lashes, casting dim red squares across his dorm wall. Some few strands of hair fallen across his pillow.

 

Some days, he stays there a little longer. This state of being conscious, but not awake. Not completely. There's warmth here, so he pretends to sleep a little more. But most days he just gets up and gets on with his day.

 

Doesn't think about time until evening comes again.

 

He exits the room, but he doesn't leave yet. Mark goes over to the table where they would brainstorm and discuss improvements together, picks a random chair to sit down. Only realizes it's not random at all when he looks up. It's where he always sat when he was with them.

 

There's something like quiet anger and nausea burning in his throat —but it's not from what he expects. He isn't worried about how the rest of Dream will manage without him, if someone will take his place and how they'll be. Mark knows, he's always known, come some point, the other boys will be just fine after he goes, they've got so much drive, so much spirit —in a way, they’d already made it when they just started out together. He knows things will change, people will come and go, like he does, but he knows they’ll be fine. Maybe the one who leads after him will be better. He likes to think it’s from the path he’s opened for them, but that’s only part of it. Probably.

 

_Jeogi meolri boin bichi jeomjeom gakkaweojyeo ga_

 

Laughs. An old line, before any of them had even really started out. Wonders how it’s coming to him now. Is that how memory works? _The light I saw far away is getting closer to me._ Was it? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

 

What he’s mad about is this —memory doesn’t work the way he wants it to. Mark wants to remember everything, everything he’s done here with them, all that they’ve built together in this brief slip of time, but he’s coming up short. His mind doesn’t cooperate and all he seems to be able to focus on is what’s next, what’s left to be done, thinking in probabilities not certainties —tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow and all that bullshit.

 

Who cares about all of that —there’s so much beyond his control, he’s heard it a thousand times, on the radio, on the television, between the lines in every book he’s read — _Tomorrow will solve itself. So don’t worry and get some sleep. Get some rest while you still can. Because tomorrow will keep coming and coming until it doesn’t anymore._

 

Maybe this is the wrong time. Maybe there’s a time where you can’t seem to remember the things that matter because there’s too much other stuff in the way. There’s always too much going on —sometime next week, he promises himself, he’s gonna free up some space and give himself some room to breathe. He’s going to untangle and refurnish everything in his mind. Then maybe the memories will come after.

 

_I want to hear Mark-hyung’s opinion_

 

Funny, he knows they look up to him, but he doesn’t see them as kids. To him, they’re his friends, his real friends, a reason for him to look forward instead of back, a reminder that some things were the same across all continents. Sometimes when he’s with them he forgets where he is. Doesn’t matter that he’s not in Canada anymore, doesn’t matter that he’s never been back since. He’s found a home, one he can carry with him everywhere.

 

Of course, there are things he still misses. Some things can’t be replaced. He feels guilty about it, but sometimes he thinks about what it would’ve been like if he’d never left. Stayed home, gone to university, where would he be now?

 

He remembers asking someone about this, maybe Donghyuck, at a quieter time, when they weren’t running around, laughing, driving each other nuts. _Do you ever think about what it would have been like if you never, you know…?_ He had laughed, looking at Mark with a curious, thoughtful look he didn’t show often. _Yeah, I have. Sometimes. Not a lot._ — _It’s not good though, right? Makes you seem ungrateful and shit._ — _Yeah, I guess. But come on, hyung, we’re kids_ — _we all think about that kind of stuff at some point._

 

He’s glad Hyuck didn’t make him feel bad at the time, but wasn’t overly sensitive about it either. Acting like it wasn’t a big deal, something as normal as telling your friend about a bad dream. Sometimes people knew exactly what to say to help you get over yourself and move on with life. See past your bullshit, pull you back up on your feet again. Remind you there’s still work to be done. Still ways left to go.

 

Memory will come back to him in fragments —jump cuts, he’ll see it play out as he’s going through his day or when he’s just about to fall asleep —he’ll see it all in a trail of polaroids taped together, imperfect, always in motion, always changing. Sometimes the photos will be mostly empty space —just the back of a sneaker caught in the frame, just the elbow of a jacket sleeve. Faces blurred, hair flying, bodies on the run. _Go, go, go, run, run, run._ Blazing lights of Los Angeles disappearing behind them.

 

_If I ever get lost_

 

He knows he’ll never get a perfect picture. The moment will never be just right, there will always be something missing. All he can do is experience it all as it happens and enjoy it for what it is because, memory or not, he’ll never get it back, not everything. So Mark tells himself that it’s alright, it’s okay to stumble sometimes as long as he finds his way again.

 

Playback to last week, maybe last month. He knows by now his brain doesn’t track the days the way it should. But Mark laughs, hears the sound of just his own laughter echoing against these walls, when he remembers something from this room. He’s sitting with them, at this table, camcorder in one hand as Hyuck goes through his lines again —those high notes, always practiced them before he went in, some sort of reassurance.

 

Somehow, he can’t hear his voice now, but he remembers the way he contorts his face, pulling his face taut, throat going rigid — _Ohhh, ohh, do it again, do it again_ — _neck vein, neck vein_ Mark had joked, zooming in on Hyuck’s throat. Zoomed back out, switched to Jeno whose copying him, going higher than his voice will comfortably allow, the others laughing as Mark hollers — _Jeno, Jeno, neck vein, go again, go again_ — _ayy_ _gotta get that sexy shot for the fans._ Laughing with satisfaction when he’s done. _You care so much about the fans, Mark._ Jaemin had remarked semi-sarcastically before going back to bug Jeno with his affection.

 

It’s these kinds of things he wants to remember. He doesn’t want to see in sharp detail, him coming and leaving, the sound of doors opening, then closing, all of them squished in the van as they drove somewhere, someplace. Familiar or not familiar. Old or new. It was all the same to him sometimes. It had always been constant because he was there with them. He doesn’t know how it will be like now.

 

_Jeogi meolri bupun kkumi jeomjeom gakkaweojyeo ga_

 

When Mark reaches the door, he turns to look up at the ceiling. He’ll be back here again soon, next week, maybe next month, it’s not this place he’s trying to remember. It’s a feeling of some kind, a sensation that he’s trying to sustain, but soon realizes he’ll never get it right because he’s alone here, now. But it’s not just that. When he’s together with them outside, going around the streets, running into them in the hallways, it’s still not gonna be the same. The moment will have passed and all he’ll be able to do is hope that things will be fine, which they will be, he knows, he knows that for sure.

 

_That dream that's far away keeps on getting closer_

 

He hopes so.

 

**...**

 

When Lucas calls later, it’s for a trivial thing. Just a distraction, really. But Mark needs a distraction, anything. _Hey, sorry, were you asleep?_ — _Nah, just got back. Changing._ — _Oh, okay. Sorry, just wondering if you have a spare hoodie? I ruined mine when I was out getting ice cream with Jungwoo and Doyoung, haha._ — _Yeah, I’ve got a spare. What colour?_ — _Doesn’t matter. Can I come up now? I’ll be fast, sorry._ — _It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Sure, yeah, come up._

 

After he’s found one he likes, Lucas slips his arms through the navy blue cotton and falls back on the bed next to Mark. He turns to him and just smiles, softly. Doesn’t say anything for a while. Then he turns his eyes to the ceiling like him. Watches it stay the same.

 

His eyes glance over to Mark’s hair from time to time, but he holds back from picking out the stray dust that’s settled there. He knows he wants to be left alone. Part of him wonders if he should’ve even come here. Probably should’ve given him more space.

 

This is a conversation that he doesn’t feel like he knows how to start, so Lucas is glad when Mark clears his throat, blinks, facing him finally. Eyes still glancing down for a moment before he looks back up. There’s something distant there now.

 

“Sorry. I’m not talking a lot.”

 

Lucas exhales quietly, shaking his head. “-it’s okay. Save it for another time.” Grins. “-maybe next vlive?”

 

He almost laughs.

 

“You know, there’s a lot inside my mind. Like so much stuff, and sometimes it’s hard to…”

 

The other nods, he doesn't need to say any more. “-yeah. Yeah, I know.”

 

“Um, I…” Mark looks just past him. “-I, um, uh...God, shit, I don’t even know where to start.”

 

“Start anywhere. I’ll listen.” He glances to the door. “-or I can just go, man, it’s fine. Do you want me to go?”

 

“No, no, stay. Just stay, Yukhei. I’m glad you’re here, seriously.” Snorts, kind of. “-actually, Renjun just ditched me to go chill with Jeno and Jaemin downstairs, haha...”

 

The other doesn’t say anything, just picks at the worn cuffs of his sleeves, still looking at him.

 

“You know, if I was by myself, I’d probably…” Mark stops, scoffs. “-I dunno. Something stupid like cry for an hour, maybe. Order a huge box of Chinese food I wouldn’t be able to finish.”

 

“You hungry? We can share, it’s no problem. I think I’ve got, what…” Digs in his pocket for bills. “-like maybe enough for shrimp fried noodles, or a combo with rice or something?”

 

“Yeah, let’s order something.” Mark laughs. “-fuck, I don’t even know if I’m hungry or just sad.”

 

Lucas nudges him, grinning. “-then, hey, hey, let’s get dessert too.”

 

**...**

 

They end up getting Thai food —they get a better price for a combo that includes drinks and Lucas finds a place that delivers Korean sweets to the door. They almost use up all the money on them. Lucas reassures him there’s worse ways they could’ve used it all. _We could be running outside and the wind could’ve blown it all away into the streets._ — _Maybe a homeless person would get it then, and then buy dinner. That’s not bad at all._ — _Okay, but that’s only one of the possibilities. Maybe some guy will find it and just use it to roll smokes. Or it’ll rain and the bills all melt and a dog’ll take a shit all over it._ Mark snorted, shoving him. _You’re an idiot._ — _Yeah, but I saw a real smile for a second._

 

They’re seated cross legged on the bed, food strewn all around them like a miniature city.

 

“You know what, none of this is my fault.” Mark shoved a bunch of noodles into his mouth. “-like I didn’t ask for any of this shit.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you say it, man.” Lucas nodded, trying to fit twelve shrimps in. “-come on, get it out, you’ll feel better after.”

 

“Yeah okay so, maybe I worded it wrong, but like,” Puts his chopsticks down, pushes his hair back. “-like, sometimes I think the whole thing’s like this —like it’s always been like this, and it’s probably always gonna be.”

 

“Okay, yeah. What do you mean?”

 

“Like, okay, you know, sometimes I _swear_ to God,” Mark rolls his eyes at himself, still chewing. “-I don’t even fucking _know_ if I’m feeling what I’m really feeling. Like you think you control that stuff, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“But like, you don’t actually know. Like there’s all these people around me —so all this shit gets all mixed up and sometimes I don’t know if like, for example, if I’m feeling sad right now about, you know, leaving Dream and shit, if it’s entirely _me_ , or if—” He swallows, takes a giant gulp of Mountain Dew. “-it’s like, you know, the _other guys_.”

 

Lucas raises his brow, then gets it when Mark flashes his own, briefly looking to the corner of the room. “- _ohh_ , you mean, like...”

 

“Yeah, like the whole fucking system’s just…” He shakes his head. “-yeah, you know, I don’t know if you feel it too sometimes, but like, look —they control so much of what we do —how do we know they’re not controlling how we _feel_ too? Like maybe they _set it up_ this way _just_ to make it happen like this.”

 

“You think they made the NCT system this way so right now you’d be sad and somehow they can use this for, like…” Lucas pauses, hesitant. “-like, _profit_ …?”

 

“Yeah, like, just look at the album —the songs are great and the feelings are real, I swear, but shit, I just feel like they set up this whole thing so I’d feel these things on purpose —all for the sake of the damn music.” He puts his carton down on the bed, sighs. “-you know what, that’s not even a bad thing. I don’t know why I’m mad. Maybe I’m just being fucking selfish.”

 

“Mark, don’t knock yourself down for having feelings…” Lucas shook his head. “-if you’re mad, just be mad, man, seriously. And I get it. Seriously, I think about that stuff too.”

 

“Yeah? You do?”

 

“Of course. You know,” He laughs, looking to the side. “-Lucas Bieber’s fricking hilarious but it’s just a joke. Like there’s so many things that’re just for jokes, for fun —Mark, they don’t know us any more than the people outside do.”

 

“You know, ‘cause like, sometimes, I feel so goddamn helpless when I think about this shit. Like we’re real fucking people and the system’s just set up so it’s just…” Mark stabbed his chopsticks into his leftover noodles. “-like it’s just fucking _bullshit_ —like all those live streams, that’s us, that’s really us, but at the same time, it’s…”

 

“Yeah. I know. Like you said. I don’t…” He puts down his plate too, stuffs a sweet into his mouth, looking down. “-like my Korean still kinda sucks so I can’t say it as well as you, but I get it, man. System’s fucked.”

 

“I mean, sometimes I’m just glad we all get along. Like we all like each other and shit. Imagine how fucking terrible it would be if we hated each other —like shit, there’s 18 of us already, if a bunch of us got into a fight it be like a fucking tornado —like, like that Sharknado shit—

 

He almost chokes when he starts laughing, half-chewed chicken and vegetables falling out of his mouth. Lucas snorts and joins in, getting the bed all sticky when he knocks over the honey-glazed sugar balls. _Nah, Mark, you got it wrong_ — _I would be the tornado, but like the rest of you guys would be the tiny little sharks flying around._ — _Not all of us are short, dumbass, what about Johnny?_ — _Johnny doesn’t fight, yo, he’d probably be like, I don’t know, some friendly, daddy-like UFO who’ll come down and beam us all into Mars or something…_ — _Beam us all into Mars…_ — _Yeah, for like, world peace and stuff, man._

 

“Anyways,” Mark sighs, lying down, arranging his arms and legs so he wouldn’t knock over any of the food cartons. “-it just sucks sometimes, I guess. Sometimes they do it so good even I don’t know what’s real or fake anymore.”

 

“Maybe it’s all real, Mark.” Lucas shrugs, joining him down. “-maybe all the fake stuff’s just in our heads.”

 

“But then doesn’t that mean _everything_ is fake? ‘Cause like, everything we see is made up from how our brains see it, which is connected to our eyes and like—

 

The other sighs, grabbing a box of coconut dusted chocolates. Starts comically putting a bunch in Mark’s mouth. “-come on, you’re thinking too deep now, man. Here, have some of these —they’re _so_ good, dude —you’re gonna forget you have a _body_ …”

 

Mark snorts, pushing him back, chocolate-stained saliva dribbling down the corner of his mouth. Then his eyes widen. “-holy shit, these _are_ good —Oh my God, this is better than... _argh_ , shit—” He gets up to swallow. “-fuck, almost choked.”

 

“We should totally get more of these.” Lucas noted, checking the label. “-okay, real name’s too hard for me to pronounce —gonna call it “Sadness Boom!” —because like, when you eat it, your sadness just goes— _boom!_ Gonelike—

 

“- _our money_.” Mark snickers. Lucas gives him a long look, rolling his eyes.

 

“But you can’t _eat_ money, Mark. You _can_ eat a Sa—

 

“-'Kay, yo, pass another Sadness Boom—

 

He tosses him the whole box, chuckling.

 

**...**

 

Sometime later, Lucas gets a foot cramp and almost tornado-kicks half the food off the bed. Mark rolls off the edge, just in time to see the box of leftover Pad Thai go flying and splat against the window, a giant orange stain on the glass. Most of the other open plates and packages tumble safely onto the carpet. An extra bag of now room-temperature chocolate balls sag right at the bed’s edge, then Mark feels around six Sadness Booms plop down and burst, coating his head with melted sugar and coconut and caramel. He picks some off and eats them, spitting out loose hairs.

 

He peeks over at Lucas and almost gags —guy’s flailing around his leg like an udon noodle undergoing demonic possession.

 

“ _Arghhhh_ , Mark, man, what if my foot _never_ stops cramping—?!" Still flailing, yelling at the ceiling. "- _y_ _ooo, seriously —_ what if they gotta  _replace_  my leg with a  _fake one_ —

 

The other snorted, coughing, getting caramel up his nose.

 

“-Shut up, shut up, yo—!" Then his eyes bugged out as panic intensifies. “- _yo, yo, yo —Oh my God_ — _maybe_ _cramping's not even a sign your legs're real_ —maybe the control system’s malfunctioning and I’m undergoing _total body reconfiguration_ inside the Matrix, _Mark, man, when did I sin, when did I_ —

 

But Mark can’t answer him, he’s curled in fetal position on the carpet, laughing his ass off.

 

“- _Is this the right way to live—_

 

He rolls down, kicks Lucas from under the bed, gasping.

 

“- _Does Obama approve—_

 

**...**

After Mark’s washed his hair in the sink, with the help of a (mostly) one-legged Lucas —who’d had to awkwardly hop over to get the shampoo and conditioner and later, the towel, they’re lying down on the bed again side by side. The Pad Thai stain’s been mostly cleaned off, some of the fallen food got tossed out, others sheepishly eaten. There were still oily patches and stains over the bed, but they were too lazy to change it.

“Tell me one of your biggest fears, Mark.” Lucas turned to him, eyes determined.

“My biggest fears?”

“Or like, a big problem you think you’re gonna have in the future —and I’ll tell you how to solve it.”

“Okay…” He thinks for a moment. “-okay, how about, what if one day I lose my voice and I can’t sing or rap or whatever anymore.”

“Okay, um…” Lucas squeezes his eyes shut, frowning when he can already hear Mark snorting. Eyes snapping open. “-shut up —I got it —I got it! The _perfect_ idea — _one hundred percent_ —!”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t _need_ your mouth to sing, Mark. All you _really_ need is…” He raises both arms in the air, waving them mellifluously.

The other blinks, squinting.

 

“...th-the _ceiling_ …?”

“Wh— _No,_ Mark, I’m not _dumb…_ ” He rolled his eyes. “-obviously, I was referring to your—” Waves his arms around again, more impatiently this time.

“Uh…”

Lucas groaned, shaking his head. “-your _armpits_ , Mark —you need your _armpits to sing_ —

“Wait, _what_ —

“Mark, _listen_ to me—

“-Dude, bro — _how_ does that even _work—_

“- _Easy-peasy_ , like how they make those vinyl records —you gotta shave your pit first but then, like, you get the sound waves of Baby Don't Stop carved onto it and then you just attach a mini gramophone and there you go —the _entirety_ of NCT contained in one small armpit! Simple science, man —imagine how _ergonomic_  —like if you don't have enough space in your house for a stereo—

“-What the _shit…_ ”

“Markeu, it’s Neo Culture _Technology.”_ Lucas rolled his eyes, holding his face. “— _technology_ , man —we gotta start planning for the future _now_ —like, armpits, okay, armpits —no function, but what if we could make them _communicate_ to each other and…”

Mark looks at him, wearily but fondly. Lucas stops, looking back, a little disappointedly. “-what?”

“Couldn’t you basically turn your whole body into a CD, then?”

The other applauds in relief, _finally_ he’s getting taken seriously. “-yes, yes, _see exactly_. See, _this_ is —what you call it —" Makes the chef's perfect sign with his hand."- _adaptable design_ —

Mark picks up a couple of mochi they missed and hit him in the face, blowing a fat raspberry. Lucas stuffs them all in his mouth, still not done, raising a finger in the air.

“Forget IKEA, Mark,” He shook his head, mouth full, waving it off. “-it’s _ILUCAS_ —gonna put ‘em flat outta business with _real technology,_ _NCT singing from your pits_ —

He’s laughing so hard he can barely hear Lucas adding on. “-no, _seriously,_ Mark, man — _more portable than the iPod nano…”_

**...**

After he’s caught his breath again, Mark yawns, head resting over Lucas’s stomach, wincing occasionally when the guy picks out stray coconut shavings from his hair. They’d bunched up the dirty sheet into a messy ball and tossed it into the tub, replaced it with a clean one from the drawer. Mark breathes —it still smells vaguely like all the takeout and sweets they had. Somehow, he found it comforting.

“What?” Lucas smirked, catching the other smiling. “-and how’s your pillow, hmm?”

“Way too hard…” He complained, knocking it lightly with his hand. “-hurry up and get a little fat…”

“ _Pssh_ —you _know_ they _hired_ me for my abs…” 

“Oh, yeah? And what’d they hire _me_ for?”

“ _Those eyebrows._ ” Gets whapped in the face with the pillow, squawking. “-hey, hey, stop it, stop it, man —look, everybody says they look like seagulls, but I think it’s something else—

“Yeah?” Mark stops, snickering, points his chin. “-what?”

“Like those flatworms at the bottom of the ocean _that make all the sand with their poop—_

Laughing and gasping while he kicks his arms and legs around frantically, as Mark grabs a second pillow and attacks him like he’s banging cymbals in a circus. _That’s worse than the friggin’ seagulls, dumbass._ — _No, it’s not, at least their poop contributes to the planet._ — _And what about seagull poop._ — _They burn holes in cars_ — _Mark,_ _bro_ , _you’d look like a human Swiss cheese_ —

When they’ve finally calmed down, Mark sighs, both of them underneath the covers. Wiggles his toes, brushes his leg against the other’s. 

“Hey.” He focuses on a nondescript spot on his face. “-thanks, seriously.”

“What for?”

“All of that.” Mark chuckles. “-I feel a little less shit now, I think.”

Lucas chuckles too. “-good. That’s good." Gives him a more serious look now. "-hey —I’m always here, okay? Whenever you feel even a little sad —text me, I’ll be right over.”

Mark thought for a moment.

 

“What if you’re somewhere else in the city?”

“I’ll Google Map you.” Grins when the other snorts. “ —seriously, I’ll steal a skateboard and roll my way over.”

“What if you’re in another country?”

“I’ll _swim_ through a channel, man —or a bay or an ocean —nah, wait, wait, there’s sharks —okay, alright —I’ll _paraglide_ …!”

“...or you can just take a plane…”

“What if I have _no_ _money_ , dude?” He frowns, rolling his eyes. “-gotta have a Plan B, Mark Lee.”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, sure.”

They’re quiet for a while. Then Lucas turns to him.

“Sure you’re not sad anymore?”

Mark looks down, a bit uncomfortable. “-well, maybe a little, still…”

“Yeah, man, I can tell. But it’s okay —it’s different than before.” He looks closely at him. “-I can see it. Like a good kind of sad. Not angry sad.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, not meeting his eyes. “-yeah, um, I dunno." Rubs his forehead, wincing when he pressed a pimple. "-I think I just miss them. Doesn’t really make any sense, maybe.”

“Makes sense to me.” He shook his head. “-really. One hundred percent.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Mark smiled faintly. “-okay.” Shifts closer in, so his head rested under his chin. Breathes in and yawns, fingers absently playing at the neck of Lucas’s shirt. Falls asleep as the other starts running his hands through his hair again.

**...**

 

_...tto nugungaye kkumieotgo uri seorol don’t forget_

 He finds himself there again, sometime next morning, when the sunlight glows red across the far wall. There’s still dust in his eyes, the sands from his dreams haven’t completely scattered off. Still clung on, not letting him go just yet. ... _dwedollyeojulge neol_

 

_I’ll take you back..._

 

Mark feels something hard underneath his neck and realizes Lucas never moved his arms. _Crap_ he thought quietly _the whole thing’s probably numb now. Nn, maybe I should get up._

 

This morning there’s a heavy fog and all he sees is a swathe of muted colour over the window. Maybe the world outside isn’t quite awake yet either. Maybe he can stay here a little longer.

 

_Looking like a blur_

 

He can already feel the beginnings of the frustration and fear sinking back in, his mind wanting to convince him that yesterday was not real. Or maybe that yesterday _was_ real, but it wasn’t right —he didn’t find the right way to cope —just ran away, like any other kid would.

 

_But I don’t want this to sound like..._

 

He knows the acceptance will come later, it always does and maybe at some point he’ll find it in him to forgive himself for the whole thing. Whatever it was.

 

He knows they miss him too —will probably call or text him during the middle of recording, maybe for nothing, just wanna be reassured by the sound of his voice again. He can already hear how their voices will sound —the way the receiver distorts and jumbles it all up. Maybe it’ll be too hard to catch the little errors and nuance and Mark’ll have to drop in, make time for it—he can still do that, right?

 

_...I'll be your home_

 

He turns, dusting off some crumbs from Yukhei’s hair, quietly admiring the way the sunlight shifts over the planes of his face. Would never say it out loud but realizes the guy was really good at handling all this stuff. Always smiling, finding the humor in everything, infecting them all with perpetual happy virus. Mark smirks. _Maybe they really would’ve cast him in Dream if he wasn’t so goddamn tall…_

 

He laughs in his dreams too —Mark’s seen it before when he stays over, he’s always up before he is. Wonders what kind of wonderful silly things they could possibly be. It would be nice sometimes, he supposes, if they really were connected by their dreams. _Maybe things would be a little more…_

 

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know for sure anyway. All he knows is Yukhei will wake up soon and then the moment will be over. _Tomorrow will solve itself, but what about today?_ Where does it all begin? Should he start again every morning, or just continue from yesterday? Was there a difference?

 

So for now, he sinks further into the covers again, breathes in the smell of not-quite-awake-yet.

 

_Hope we always feel like_

 

Smiles, eyes hazing over. Had run through a number of possibilities, but then realized it was perfect like that. Doesn’t know how exactly to describe it, but it’s the way goodbyes always were —something missing, something gone, thread cut loose, lost to the wind. Almost like some kind of old rerun of high school again.

 

But for now, he decides it’s okay, it’s enough. For now, Mark shifts in his pillow, pulls back his hand, feels the warmth of the bed underneath. Finds someplace he’ll settle for as home then, somewhere between dreaming and after.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, so i saw the fifth Nct recording diary and the end had me like...
> 
> sorry there's hardly any nct dream (they're the unit i'm least familiar with so...)
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoyed it :)


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